HOLWOOD OR MARLEY?
'My dear Sylvana, I wish you particularly to look at this tureen. Very
handsome, is it not?'
'Beautiful, but surely very costly.'
'It is costly, my dear, as it is plated, but not so costly as it would
be were it silver. Happily, at a dinner party the guests cannot examine
it for the plate mark, as they can forks and spoons. In our position we
must possess a handsome soup-tureen.'
'We have done without one of metal hitherto. Why buy one now?'
'Sylvana,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, 'I have engaged a butler. With him
we must have a suitable tureen.'
'Why, mother?'
'Because, my dear, we shall be constrained to give dinner-parties.'
'We have given nothing above high teas hitherto.'
'But with a butler, dear.'
'Well, with that adjunct?'
'We must give dinner-parties, and giving dinner-parties must have what
looks like a silver soup-tureen on the table.'
'What an explosion of gentility!' exclaimed Sylvana.
'My dear, hitherto we have not been in a position to buy a tureen. Now
it is somewhat different.'
'Oh! because we have a paying pupil whom you can trot out. How long is
she to be with us? Perhaps a month, perhaps may not come back to us at
all, and then away flies this butler with the soup-tureen under his
arm, and the last state of the Tomkin-Joneses is worse than the first.'
'My dear, don't be profane.'
'I am stating a fact. But how do you know that the girl Winefred is a
fit person for you to patronise?' asked Miss Jones, with a malicious
intonation in her voice.
'She is related to the Finnborough family.'
'Have the Finnboroughs acknowledged her?'
'They are not in Bath at present. When they learn how greatly admired
she is and how much she is talked about――――'
'Because of her dialect.'
'No, Sylvana, because of her beauty. How can you be so disagreeable?'
'Mother, send back the tureen as not suited, and cancel your engagement
to the butler.'
'Sylvana! how offensively you put things! I am not engaged to any
butler. It is the butler who is engaged by me.'
'Well, rid yourself of both.'
'I cannot; I have bought the plated tureen.'
'And the butler, bought also?'
'Engaged, as I said.'
'Then you are throwing away money that we can ill afford. When young
Maskell came of age his father had a blaze of fireworks, and afterwards
informed the youth he had nothing to give him and nothing to leave him;
his inheritance was debts.'
'There is no analogy in the cases.'
'You want to blaze out, mother, before you know that with any
self-respect you can keep Winefred in the house.'
'Indeed!'
'Indeed, yes. I have received some information. I have an old school
friend at Axminster, and I have inquired of her about the Holwoods.'
'Axminster is not Axmouth.'
'It is on the same river.'
'So are Pangborne and Tilbury. You do not inquire at one place relative
to persons at the other. Besides, I will trouble you to mind your own
business and not be so officious as to inquire into things that in no
way concern you.'
'They do concern me, mamma. We have――or rather have not――this girl in
the house, and she is involving you in soup-tureens and butlers.'
'I want to know nothing of what you have been inquiring after.'
'Of course you do not. After having spent something like ten or a dozen
pounds on a tureen. But I will tell you, nevertheless. My friend says
that there are no persons of the name of Holwood, that any one knows,
in the county, and the name is not in the _Court Directory_. As to
their country seat, it resolves itself into a castle in Spain.'
'Mrs. Jose told me that they lived at the Undercliff.'
'There is no gentleman's seat so called. I further inquired of my
friend――――'
'I want to hear no more.'
'I further inquired,' pursued the relentless Sylvana, 'about a person
of the name of Marley.'
'How ridiculous!' exclaimed Mrs. Tomkin-Jones; 'how should any one know
about Mrs. Marley? She was a common menial, a nurse, nothing more.'
'There is no knowing what one may learn by mentioning names.'
'Of course you heard nothing of her?'
'I did not expect to hear from my friend at Axminster, but she has a
friend married at Seaton, and she will write to her.'
'I insist on you desisting from this sort of thing,' said the doctor's
widow. 'We were dropping out of consideration in Bath because we did
not entertain.'
'And, mamma, you are leaping――――'
'Leaping, Sylvana, be decent; I never leap.'
'Leaping into notoriety, mother, if you choose to patronise a young
woman of equivocal origin.'
'My dear,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, 'you entirely forget who I am.'
'Not at all. It is because you are a Tomkin-Jones that I am constrained
to look after you. There was a peacock in Bedfont that got into the
lodge and spread its tail before the kitchen fire, and it blazed like
a Catherine-wheel. The funny thing is that all that summer the peacock
continued to bristle up and spread the bare and charred stumps, wholly
unconscious that it was making itself ridiculous. Take care, mother,
that you have feathers before you make a spread.'
'You forget what is due to me,' said the widow angrily.
'I am solicitous for you. Have you ever asked Winefred, or her father,
what was her mother's maiden name?'
'No.'
'But I have.'
'My dear!'
'I asked Winefred, and she flared up and refused an answer. I next
asked Mr. Holwood, and he became so nervous and bewildered as to be
speechless. That tells its own tale――it does not look nice.'
'How can you, Sylvana? What an improper mind you possess! Besides――such
questions――most reprehensible.'
'This must be searched to the bottom.'
'But――but!' gasped Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, 'consider the tureen!'
'You cannot afford to know the truth,' pursued Sylvana, 'because you
have bought a soup-tureen and hired a butler! So, to preserve both, you
thrust your head into a bush.'
Then Jesse, who had been seated in the window engaged in domestic
needlework, darning a kitchen tablecloth that a stupid maid had cut
through when slicing bread――and had been unnoticed by her mother
and sister, as taking no part in the conversation――now started from
her chair, threw down the tablecloth, and coming forward, laid her
thimble-shod finger on the round rosewood table, and said:
'What does it matter to any of us who was Winefred's mother, and
whence she came, and what was her maiden name? Winefred is sent to us,
not that we may pick holes in her pedigree, but patch up gaps in her
education. What does society care about her mother? Not a rush. It is
solely those who are disappointed and soured who go about with the
muck-rake scraping in the gutters for dirty, inconsidered, and castaway
trifles, and rejoice in the foulest find the fork brings up. Society
does not ask these questions, does not care about the mothers of those
whom it admires. Society does recognise in Winefred a wholesome mind,
a fresh nature, and a sound heart. These are things not brought to the
surface by the muck-rake. Society recognises her good qualities and
respects her, regardless of father or mother, for her own sake.'
'Oh, yes!' sneered Sylvana, 'you fight her battles because she has
promised you a new gown and bonnet.'
'I fight the battles of any one who is an object of envy and spite to
the gutter-scrapers.'
At that moment the front-door bell was rung, and a knock followed.
'Quick――quick, Jesse!' exclaimed the mother. 'Put that dreadful
tablecloth under the sofa. It ought never to have been brought in here.
'Sylvana, hide the tureen, and for mercy's sake, Jesse, take off your
thimble, slip it into your pocket, and pretend you were reading _Rogers
on the Imagination_.'
In another minute the door was opened and Mr. Holwood entered,
accompanied by his daughter.
After the first salutations, always made with the most laboured
politeness by him, and responded to with formal courtesy by Mrs.
Tomkin-Jones, as though they were practising a figure under the
supervision of a dancing master, Winefred said: 'I went first of all
to my father's lodgings to see him, and have brought him on here.'
'You have certainly tumbled upon us quite unexpectedly,' said Sylvana.
'I must confess that in Bath we are accustomed to send a letter
beforehand to notify our coming. But customs differ in different
latitudes. That may not be usual at Axmouth which is _de rigueur_ at
Bath.'
'Sylvana, be silent,' ordered Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, with a frown at her
eldest daughter; then with a face wreathed in smiles she said to
Winefred, 'My dear, delighted to see you. At all times you are welcome.'
'I am sorry if I have acted wrongly,' said the girl. 'When I left, I
said that I would return in a fortnight. I have not exceeded my time. I
have brought the choughs; they are in the passage.'
'In the hall,' was Mrs. Tomkin-Jones's correction. 'How good of you,
and how gratified the Square will be at our contribution to the garden!
It will be noticed in the _Bath Gazette_.'
'I hope the ancestral mansion is looking its best,' said Sylvana, who
stood by the fireplace playing with the spills on the mantel-piece.
'I do not understand your meaning,' answered Winefred, looking fixedly
in her face.
Jesse drew to her side. She saw that a crisis approached.
'And the venerable fossil――in good repair, I trust?' asked Sylvana.
'What or whom do you mean by that term, venerable fossil?' asked
Winefred quietly but firmly.
Sylvana, trifling with the spills, threw out some from the vase that
had contained them. These she leisurely collected to return them to the
same receptacle. A provoking smile was on her face, but she made no
answer.
'I asked you a question, Miss Jones. Whom did you mean when you spoke
of a venerable fossil?'
'Oh, you and Mr. Holwood know best,' sneered Sylvana, turning her head
about to contemplate the 'Flight into Egypt.'
'If you refer to my mother, she is well.'
Mr. Holwood gasped and fell back.
'Oh, your mother――I thought her name was Marley. I beg pardon for my
mistake.'
A long silence ensued. Mrs. Tomkin-Jones endeavoured by looks and
signals to silence her daughter. Jesse took Winefred's arm. Sylvana
continued playing with the spills with the same exasperating smile on
her lips.
Winefred was composed. She answered, 'My father can give you the best
reply as to her name.'
Mr. Holwood shook like an aspen leaf, and turned about as though he
sought the door by which to run away.
'My name is the same as hers,' said Winefred. 'I will bear that of
Holwood only if I have a right to do so.'
She waited. No word came from her father.
'I am glad of this opportunity having arisen at once,' said the girl.
'I returned to Bath with full intent to have everything cleared up.
On descending from the coach, I went direct to my father. I have
brought him here that misunderstandings might at once be got rid of. I
wish everything to be open and plain before those who have so kindly
received me.'
Jesse pressed her arm.
'I hate everything that is not true and aboveboard. I have been unhappy
here hitherto, through no lack of kindness or consideration on the part
of Mrs. Tomkin-Jones and of you, Jesse, but because I was in a false
position. I myself did not know, I do not know now, how I stand. Am I
Winefred Holwood, or am I Winefred Marley? Father, answer me that.'
He was turned half round and was blowing at his finger-tips as though
playing on pan-pipes.
She waited, and then repeated her question in a peremptory tone.
'Really, my dear, you take me aback. I was unprepared. This is wholly,
entirely unexpected.'
'It is but a plain answer that I ask for as to facts,' said Winefred.
'I will accept whichever name you say, but, remember this, father, I
will no longer――no, not for a day――suffer my poor mother to be thrust
out of all consideration and called my nurse. Anyhow, after what has
occurred, I shall return to her again, be she Marley or Holwood. My
mother she is, and dear, past words to say, she has always been, is,
and ever will be to me. Father, if you desire to have me here at any
time with you, and if you value a daughter's love, you will seek and
find me in my mother's arms; whether that mother be Marley or Holwood
by name――she is mother to me. Now, which is it?'
He was groping in his waistcoat pocket, then in the tails of his
bottle-green coat. He turned round and round again, like a parrot on a
perch, but with none of the coolness, the audacity of a parrot.
'Very well――I go back to Axmouth at once,' said the girl.
'O Winefred!'――he remained stationary for a moment――'do not leave me!
You do not know all. I cannot explain everything at once. There are
many things to be considered.'
'Father, I must know what is my real name. Is it Marley, or is it
Holwood?'
'Oh, do not worry and distract me. I am very ill. The doctors say that
they cannot cure me――it may be long――it may be short――――'
'I am indeed sorry to leave you, dear father. But you know where at all
times I may be found――with my mother.'
Again the feeble man began twisting about.
'Come,' said Jesse. She let go her hold of Winefred, and caught the
father, gripping both his arms and holding him fast so that he could no
more revolve. 'Come, Mr. Holwood, I will shake you. Positively I will
shake you to bits unless you answer Winefred. Now――――' She had him by
the shoulders.
'Oh, don't, I cannot bear it.'
'Which is it?' with an initial, premonitory shake. 'I will shake your
wig off.'
'Oh! don't, I am in poor health.'
'Which is it, Marley or Holwood?'
'My teeth, my teeth!'
'I will shake them out of your head. Which is it?'
'She is my――my daughter.'
'And the mother――speak plainly――what is she?'
She shook him again. He gasped, he put his hand to his cravat. 'My――my
wife――really, really――my lawful wife.'
'Then,' said Jesse, letting go her clutch, 'Winefred is rightly named.
She is Miss Holwood.'
'Sir,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones with great stateliness, rising,
rustling, and curtsying, 'under the painful circumstances, as your
daughter says that she intends to leave at once, bear in mind that I
have not received a notice of any sort――I am quite ashamed to seem
mercenary――and positively I know nothing about money and business and
all that sort of thing――but I have been drawn into numerous expenses to
make all ready to accommodate your daughter. And I regret to say that I
expect――――'
'The soup-tureen to be paid for,' threw in Sylvana.
'Certainly! certainly!' said the trembling man, 'anything, only do not
retain me longer. I am very unwell, and my cravat is――is――is all on
one side. I confess everything. Jane is my wife, and Winefred is my
daughter. So they both have a right to my name.'